


Knee-Slapper, Rib-Buster

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Almost Drowning, Apologies, Fights, Gen, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Canon, Reconciliation, Wrestling, eliza and isaac death mentioned, not like that near death but yunno still traumatic, past mary/arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: Ithadbeen a joke, Arthur tossing him into one of the pools of the river.Ten-too-many seconds underwater in the rolling-but-not-raging current had jerked all his long-buried fears right to the surface.





	Knee-Slapper, Rib-Buster

**Author's Note:**

> still working on chap 2 of Years, 4 of Uneven, 2 of Pockets, 3 Savage and a couple other things having a bit of a hard physical health time rn which in turn makes my mental health worse! :) but i'm getting blood tests done next week so wwwwww at least i'll have some updates on what the fuck my body is doing

“Hey!” Arthur barks as a few of John’s untrimmed nails dig into his arm as the younger man tries to pull away.

John snarls, teeth bared as he struggles in the older man’s grip.

“It was damned _joke,_ Marston. Now, calm down.”

“Let go,” John hisses and yanks, feeling the strain in his shoulders.

There are tears biting at the corners of his eyes, hidden in the mess of water droplets and drenched hair clinging to his face.

“Not until you calm down, you’re gonna drown if you keep flailin’ like this.”

“Arthur,” John begs, just above a whisper, a choking feeling in his chest.

It _had_ been a joke, Arthur tossing him into one of the pools of the river.

Ten-too-many seconds underwater in the rolling-but-not-raging current had jerked all his long-buried fears right to the surface.

“Dammit,” He hears Arthur mutter above him then the hands around his forearms slide up and curl around his back instead.

Pulling him in close to the older man, caging him in with warmth and strength.

John hates that it overtakes his panic.

It’s been a while since he’s been in the position but damn if it doesn’t take him back.

Arthur used to not think twice about gathering John up in his arms when the younger man was scared.

Then Mary came.

Then Mary went.

Then something happened with a woman Arthur visited every-so-often that Hosea had never fully explained to him.

But it all changed Arthur.

Left him a little colder, more reserved, less willing to touch or be touched.

And John missed it, but he knew better than to mention it.

Not with the way Arthur had pinned him with a stare of pure animosity the one time John had tried to sneak into his tent during a thunderstorm not that long after Arthur came back and all-but-stopped smiling.

John had felt fear strike him, more vicious than the lightning, and had slunk back to his tent.

Curled up in his bedroll and stared at the bottom of his tent flaps where the wind whistled through and light flashing filtered in every few breaths.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever fear Arthur more than the thunder.

Now, he feels fear of another kind.

The adrenaline of being underwater against his will wearing off…

This feels treacherous.

He still doesn’t know exactly what got Arthur so mad at him back then.

He felt like he lost his best friend, his partner in crime, that day.

How do you not set off the bear trap if you don’t know where it lurks?

“Shh. It’s alright, Marston, you’re fine.”

John stays rigid, forehead pressed to Arthur’s bare sternum.

They were just supposed to wash up, maybe catch a couple of trout.

They’d been wading hip-deep in the river, lingering, cooling off.

Quiet jibes exchanged, common dishonest insults.

John doesn’t remember what exactly he said but Arthur had taken it as gospel, barked back a warning.

But John had poked and prodded further until Arthur had swooped around, faster than the water cloying their legs should’ve allowed, picked him up, and tossed him into one of the swirling pools.

John sniffs quietly and feels Arthur’s fingers flex on his back, moving up and down lightly, rubbing over the edge of his shoulder-blade.

“‘M sorry,” John whispers.

There’s a tense to John’s shoulders like he’s fighting gravity, struggling to not relax into the embrace.

It feels too easy.

He wants to, so badly.

“Quiet,” Arthur mutters.

It’s as gentle of a command as Arthur would ever give, but it has John swallowing his tongue, trying not to spew apologies in an attempt to undo the last five minutes.

John tentatively turns his head, resting his cheek on Arthur’s shoulder so he feels like he can breathe clearly again.

His lungs feel tight, and he’s not sure if it’s from the water he choked down or the panic that seized his body.

Arthur sighs and John feels the older man’s hands move down to his waist, squeeze, and then slide up to John’s shoulders, cupping each firmly.

John can’t quite bring himself to look up when Arthur pulls back, just to arm’s length.

“You alright?” Arthur asks quietly.

It’s the most sincere concern John has heard from Arthur in a long time.

John blinks the water out of his eyes, indiscriminate between tears and river-water.

He looks up.

Arthur’s frowning down at him, but he no longer looks angry, just frustrated, the faintest worried tilt to the furrow of his brows.

“I’m fine,” John says hoarsely.

Arthur glances over him, tilting his head and lightly twisting John to check the younger man over.

“You’re bleeding,” Arthur says and turns John a little more, lifting up the younger man’s left arm.

John makes a small noise of protest when he feels the sting of a scrape over his ribs being stretched.

“Go clean that up,” Arthur says, nudging John away before turning towards the bank where their things lay.

“... Arthur?”

The older man pauses and looks at him curiously.

“Are _we_ alright?” John asks tentatively.

Arthur studies him for a moment then shoves the wet hair back from his face and tilts his head back, looking up at the purple-gray sky.

“Maybe…” Arthur purses his lips and thinks for a moment, “Maybe _not yet.”_

John watches the older man sigh again before smiling lopsidedly at him.

“But, we will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> also thank you for 100+ user subs!!! ;w;


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